


I'm home, wating for time to bring you back

by sunchime



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, If You Squint - Freeform, Internal Monologue, Pseudo-Incest, five time travels, i wanted to try writing from vanya's perspective, no beta we die like men, vanya is desperately hopeful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 14:17:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18740755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunchime/pseuds/sunchime
Summary: Five stares back at her with cold, uncaring eyes, and it breaks her heart. This isn’t her Five.





	I'm home, wating for time to bring you back

She brushes her fingers over the portrait, only partially complete. She traces the arch of his eyebrows, always so serious and stern, but here they look especially so. Her Five never looked this cold.

Vanya sniffles, using her hand to stifle the noise. Dad can’t know she’s here or he’d chase her off and punish her later. Knowing his cruel methods, he’d probably take her violin from her for a week, or maybe even forbid her from entering the kitchen.

It only makes sense that he knows what she does every night. How she painstakingly spreads the peanut butter on both slices, counts the perfect amount of marshmallows, and leaves the lights on over night. How she sits on the kitchen floor clutching the plate to her chest as she cries for at least three hours past curfew. She knows he only allows it because it doesn’t interfere with the others’ studies. Dad had never really cared about what she does anyway.

But tonight, she's broken that routine. Ever since the painter came in to work on the portrait, Vanya's been biding her time to see it up close. To see if it could compare to the real thing. 

Silence is important tonight, so a hand to her mouth it is.

With quiet distaste, Vanya follows the crescents of his eyelids, too heavy, too droopy. Five’s eyes always hold so much more _life_ in them. His mind is too busy for his eyes to look so d-

It takes a minute, but Vanya manages to get her breathing back under control, manages to lessen the flow of her tears.

_Five’s. Not. Dead._

She knows this is a fact because Klaus hasn’t conjured him. It doesn’t matter that he’s always moving from one drug to the next, it doesn’t _matter_ that he hasn’t heard the whisper of a ghost since they were twelve. If Klaus can’t see him, then Five isn’t dead.

A deep breath in. A deep breath out. 

Slowly, she runs a finger down the bridge of his nose. That isn’t right either, too straight here, too narrow there. It was like the painter had no idea what Five looked like.

He always had it buried in a book of some kind, his nose, much like Ben. But Five would always turn to her when she called his name. And sometimes, he’d even give her a little smile, genuine and kind.

Vanya loves his smile. Any of them. His arrogant smirks, the little quirks of his lips when he glances at her, the way his lips press together in an attempt to hide his amusement at something their siblings did, when he laughs and shows his teeth and his dimple is deep.

The mouth of the portrait is still mostly charcoal, dark lines and ragged shapes. Her hand hovers over it, unable to touch this part. It wasn’t finished yet, but even now Vanya knows they won’t get this part right either.

A tear falls onto the dish in her lap. She’s sure that by now the sandwich is ruined from all her crying, salty and soggy. She should get going, put the portrait back on its easel and pull the drape back over it, but she can’t make herself move.

Five stares back at her with cold, uncaring eyes, and it breaks her heart. This isn’t her Five. And she’s almost certain dad did that on purpose, that he had directed the painter to create this stony imposter.

Dad doesn’t know any of them well enough to see the kindness and innocence they keep hidden in their hearts. He see’s their surface level hurt, their fear and obedience. He see’s only what they’re willing to show him. Looking at the portrait, she supposes this is what Five had allowed him to see. This is the Five that dad had known.

Not _her_ Five, but _dad’s_.

Sighing, Vanya shoves the plate off her lap and drags the portrait back to the easel. There was no point in looking at it anymore. She picks up the discarded dish, rubbing her nose on her sleeve.

Besides, her Five would be returning. It’s only a matter of time.

After all, he promised.

**Author's Note:**

> hhhhhhh, i didn't mean to write angst but my fingers didn't wanna make fluff so here's this little thing.


End file.
